This old out of print book came into my collection as a gift. Its thick yellowing pages have lightly frayed edges that give them a soft cotton feel, I find myself running a finger down the edge as I turn each one and take in the pulpy perfume. The worn red fabric cover is tattered and with the name of a woman no one remembers scribbled on the inside. It feels as though this book should be read out in the sun, tucked away in some private park, or indoors by candle light even at the cost of my eyes. I love the tactile experience of old books, they come to life with character and a personal history. In honor of the writer, and all those who held this exact book before me, I find myself protective, as though I have a responsibility while it remains in my care.
I have always found the twisted story of Abelard and his love fascinating. Experiencing this old tale through an old source will make for a much more delightful enterprise.
The Gifted Student
Are all brilliant men oozing with talent prey to arrogance? Like my dearest Ovid, Abelard was conceited and disdainful. Yet, I can't deny I would have been amongst the throng of people who rushed out to see Abelard pass through the streets of Paris, swooning at his passionate words, and blazing with the desire to feel his hands explore my flesh.
Abelard's was a time when dialectic was the supreme path to truth. Amongst intellectual circles it was believed that without the give and take, push and pull of controversial dialogue one could never arrive at truth. This highly regarded art inspired groups of brilliant scholars and eager students to debate even the Socraticness of Socrates.
How I wish to have witnessed these lively discussions unfolding, each thesis and antithesis giving rise to new arguments, new ideas. Imagine, sitting amongst students with a vital thirst for knowledge, who would only accept the most skilled and vivacious of teachers. With pride, I would call such men "Master".
Abelard, a gifted student of philosophy, would seek out the most respected of masters, fearlessly challenging them in the midst of their adoring pupils. His victories and bold independent spirit left a bitter taste in the mouths of his celebrated teachers and would ignite a life of feuds and peril. Deciding to become a rival of William of Chapeaux, the most famed dialectician of his time and Abelard's former master, he took the leap from student to teacher at a young age, and did so with incredible success.
After taking leave from his academics in order to restore his energy and peace of mind, Abelard returned to Paris to learn that William of Chapeaux had left dialectic behind in order to teach rhetoric. Abelard once again took on the roll of student, seeking the opportunity to rival his master at every turn, and within a few months had returned to teaching. He once again stepped down to the humble role of student - Abelard himself lacking any humility in the role - in order to pursue theology, and within months and proved a master theologian, to the great consternation of yet another celebrated teacher.
With a great deal of commotion from his slighted masters, Abelard eventually took the seat at Notre Dame. This rivalry only spurred on his fame and filled his classes with students eager to learn from the legendary philosopher and theologian.
His phenomenal success brought with it considerable financial comfort. Abelard had it all: youth, brilliance, fame and fortune. Yet, I sense that in the realm of the spirit he was undeveloped and unreservedly self centered. Though I may never have known my very own Aristotle, I have been humbled by the affections of ingenious men, who were far greater than Abelard in their hearts.
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Heloise
Ah Heloise, at last! A woman after my own heart. I share her passion for the sacred treasures of knowledge, sheer surrender to lustful fires, and the same disdain for wifedom.
A single glimmering jewel amongst a sea of male clerks, Heloise's reputation as a gifted student spread through Paris and institutions of learning. In a world where education was banished from the life of women, and most ladies of standing preferred to focus on fashion, leisure and husbands, Heloise had won regard as a masterful scholar. Surpassing the education convent nuns could offer, she had taken residence with her Uncle Fulbert of Notre Dame in order to pursue her path of knowledge.
It was living amongst the ecclesiastical community that Abelard would first lay eyes on Heloise. There was no missing her. A beautiful laywomen devoted to studies must have created quite a stir in the cathedral community. I imagine that Abelard, swarmed by eager students, was finally the one craning his neck to spy an almost mythical figure.
A predator by nature, Abelard had managed to conquer all his targets and while still youthful. Feeling that his intellectual prowess would be left unmatched, new ambitions began to rage within his calculating mind. He craved a feast of the flesh, and "like a hungry wolf stealing a tender lamb" made Heloise his quarry. A skilled strategist and genius in the art of rhetoric, Abelard hatched a plan intended to let him have the object of desire.
He would offer to live with Fulbert, who was located close to Abelard's school, claiming that his devotions to study made keeping his own residence impractical. It took shockingly little convincing, Fulbert saw this as an opportunity for his astute young niece to study under the most celebrated of philosophers. He gave Abelard full reign over the teenage girl, insisting all his spare time be spent in furthering her learning. Fulbert even gave Abelard permission to strike the girl if he saw fit. I wonder if victory begins to loose its sweetness when so often tasted and so easily attained.
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Updated April 24, 2008
And his she would be.
There is no suggestion that Heloise ever resisted him. Abelard's smooth eloquence had been polished to perfection, his reputation proceeded him, and he wanted her. Perhaps he had already played an instrumental part in the private fantasies of Heloise. In their union, love had sprung to life for her, so fierce it would last into the crypt and find eternal life as part of the story of mankind.
"The newness of these joys served only to make us prolong them ecstatically; we could not weary of them...On the pretext that we were studying, we gave ourselves unreservedly to love; lessons provided us with the opportunity for the mysterious converse which love demands; the books lay open, but the lessons were interspersed with more words of love than words of philosophy, more kisses than construed sentences; my hands returned more often to her breast than to our books; our eyes shone with love more than they pored over texts. Sometimes to allay suspicion, I went so far as to strike her - not in anger but in love, not from hate but from affection; the blows were sweeter than any balm. What more can I say? In our eagerness, we went through all the phases of love; we exhausted every refinement that passion can device."
Unreserved abandon to desire is not the territory of virgins alone. Though, I must admit a blow of envy that Abelard's words strike into me! Cruel, cruel world! That I should, in this modern day, be forbidden the love of an intellectual master. In my days as an avid student more than one teacher had captured my spirit with his exuberant sharing of knowledge, his ability to inspire my creative world, and thus entered my fantasies. I am comforted only by the knowledge that so many have suffered through this moment of jealousy:
"What queen, what princess did not envy both my joys and my bed?"
Heloise
Who can blame her for gloating?
Is it so wrong to follow a man who can take me down intellectual paths, and want to travel lustful ones as well? In a strange sort of way, the act of teaching, and learning is an intimate one - when done with sincerity and passion. It requires an opening of two minds and fluid ease of communication. Where passion has planted a seed, it can branch out and blossom. Unlike Heloise, I would never know those embraces, though they were sorrowfully rejected. For fear of harassment, humiliation, contempt.
I admit it shamelessly, I'm a geeky girl with a head swimming in fantasies of making love to philosophers and poets in libraries. Ah, to be lost in sweet kisses amongst endless rows and stacks of beautiful books, oozing their unique brand of thick silence. If I could have my own private master to lead and excite me, there would be no end to the doctorates I'd pursue! Wandering through the inner theatre of my mind, I have played out the moment when the pen would be taken from my hand, and his shutting the book. Or perhaps we would be pouring over manuscripts, enthralled in conversation. His closeness, his voice, pulling me in, our lips melting together, silence cushioning soft moans.
It is no wonder this secret, forbidden love ignited an outpouring of songs and poetry. Heloise's inspired Abelard to write pieces that would be sung throughout the land, bringing their romance public fame. Abelards devotion to scholarly pursuits had wained, all fervor would fall into the art of love, and disgruntled students gossiped.
It was only Fulbert, Heloise's uncle, that remained ignorant of the affair between niece and live-in tutor - until he discovered them in the act of making love several months later.
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April 29, 2008
Banished from the house, Abelard and his young love were forced to communicate in secret. Raised a Catholic, and with a natural taste for older men that the world deemed forbidden to me, intrigues were an active part of my life. I am all too familiar with the hawk-eyed vigilance of male guardians, and the art of stealing away.
The separation of lovers, making their passion a crime, only whets the appetite. Forbidden fruit gleams tantalizingly, and a fighting spirit springs to life. Introducing an antagonist into my love affairs only coated my will in iron. We monitored our guardians carefully, taking even the slightest opportunity to slip away. If a day on the town was planned with my caretakers, my lover knew through messages carried on the lips and in the pockets of friends. He would follow us warily, and the moment all custodians were distracted, I would vanish. Stolen kisses, quick urgent whispers, desperate fingers tangled together and quickly torn apart so that I could return unnoticed. This was followed by elaborate plans and ridiculous lies to lead watchmen astray. Early evenings were spent brewing pots of coffee, so in the dead of night I could hear the gentle pebbles tapping on my window. Locked doors and creaking hallway floors quickly taught me to lunge out windows and scale trees. Cool nights were spent in ink black parks, hidden amongst trees and bushes. They always brought a blanket, sometimes they brought candles. Only the sounds of crickets, the trill of a brook, and the meeting of lips filled the air. To this day, the song of a brook fills me with a warm loving glow. Like honey those kisses were. With predators evaded, the hunt successful, we indulged in the delicious taste of success on the flesh of another. My heart pounded with passion yes, but the danger made it beat all the fiercer. The brush of his lips were always welcome, but our separation made them more urgent and consuming. It was absolutely intoxicating. "You poison my pleasure by your feeble acquiescence," Ovid had declared to his lover's husband.
Let the world bolt its doors against me. Let them declare me forbidden, wrong, lawless. Be watchful and on guard. But never be triumphant. No one will deny me a lover. Only the one I crave has the power to turn me away. Only the words from his lips could cause my pursuit to expire - I am too proud to chase one who does not desire me in turn.
It was during this time of covert communication that Heloise would send word to Abelard that she was with child. As soon as Fulbert left the house, Abelard slipped in, disguised Heloise in a nun's habit, and stole her to his families estate where Abelard's sister would make Heloise comfortable. In Brittany Heloise gave birth to her son, Peter Astrolabe.
The loss of his niece made Fulbert seethe with animosity. He agonized over the misfortunes that befell his niece and resented Abelard ruthlessly. In seeing Fulbert suffering, Abelard conscience finally began to stir. He called a meeting, and at last the two men came face to face. Pleading the uncle to understand that even the greatest of men are made prey to the charms of woman and intensity of love, he offered to marry Heloise. However, only if their union could remain secret. Abelard wanted to protect his reputation.
This was a time when the Church hierarchy's and the Church community lived closely together. Various people living with different degrees of commitment to the church were present between members of the congregation and the Church leaders. As a clerk, Abelard was free to marry, but only an untouched maiden. As a Canon, choosing not to be celibate, the election of a bishop or managing the possessions of the ecclesiastical chapter were beyond his scope, but he could still manage the school. Abelard could have retained his position and lifestyle with a wife, though it would limit his power within the church.
Abelard left for Brittany to make his mistress his wife. He was convinced that Fulbert had been placated, and once again he was triumphant over turbulent waters. Of course, no one had consulted Heloise concerning plans of marriage. Abelard simply assumed his captivated lover would be over come with joy.
For the first time in their heated affair, she would refuse him. Even a secret marriage was unacceptable to her. Wailing babies, dirty diapers, a home to run, a family to feed - these are not concerns fit for a philosopher!
"You will point out that the rich manage very well. Yes, because in their places or domains there are apartments set aside, because money is no problem to them, and they are not burdened with everyday cares. But philosophers do not enjoy such conditions, while those who seek to make a fortune, whose life is bound up with this world's goods, have little time for the study of Scripture or of philosophy." Heloise
True in her day as it is in ours. For many, there is a choice to be made between passion and prosperity. It is a choice countless ladies of leisure have made. Many of the women I have met throughout North America lead fascinating and inspired lives, that cannot possibly provide comfort though their pursuit gives happiness. Aside from the lovely gifts, the unique adventures that my lovers give me, there is something invaluable I gain. Matched with the priceless worth of their embrace and affection, is the freedom they give me to pursue my passions on my terms.
Give me pen and paper, bursh and canvas, chisel and stone. GIve me nature's beauty to contemplate divinity and self. Give me books, give me music. Give me intoxication and inspiration. Give me freedom, and give me life! For these gifts, I will gladly share my love.
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May 21,
2008
In her refusal to marry, Heloise was not attempting to protect her own freedom. She loved purely and fiercely, her concerns revolved around Abelard. He was a gift to the world, and it would be a crime to horde him for herself. She did not want the security of marriage, but the wild freedom of love so that he might continue to flourish as an individual.
Like my heroine, I wish my lovers to soar freely. They could never be mine - nor do I want them. They belong to themselves. It may be delightful to have my own pet bird, who considers me home. Yet, how much more exhilarating it is to have a wild bird choose to visit, and sing its song for me before taking flight once more. I can walk away, hopeful for another visit, my heart fluttering at the memory. How much more it takes to adore someone, knowing they are free to do exactly as they please, with no duties, only the heart's wishes. What a gift it is, to have someone's tender care and affection entirely free of any sense of obligation. Do as you will, my dear lover, only do not forget me.
In the very act of giving my affection and in the exercise of hoping I can find joy. The thrill of the hunt has been replaced by exquisite yearning. I am, after all, a gentle submissive. There is a bit of a masochist in me.
"...a love so total, so exacting... [it] might fairly be said to feed on its own bestowal." Pernoud
The Courtesan was born of this courtly love. Poets revel in it. Musicians sing it. Love that can never be satiated is sublimely invigorating. Without the promise of forever, it gains a unique sacred quality. My philosophy in life is mirrored in liaisons, knowing all will pass beyond my control allows me to drink deeply and savor.
In Rumi's Words:
Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is, Suffer the pain.
Your desire must be disciplined,
and what you want to happen
in time, sacrificed.
Heloise pleaded that Abelard understand the necessity of their unbound love, and accept her sacrifice.
"The term "wife" may seem at once holier and more substantial, but another was always dearer to my heart, that of your mistress, or even - allow me to say it - of your concubine, your whore." Heloise
Oh sweet lady, I shall kiss the stone lips of your sarcophagus as you have long ago left this world! The stories of these women reach across space and time, breaking down these walls of solitary confinement. Where others have virtuous familial goals, my dreams have ennobled mistresses. The manifestation of my romantic life has confounded friends and baffled lovers. I turn to poets, ancient texts, and aged letters for the comforting companionship of kindred spirits.
For all her pleading and historical references, Abelard still wanted to reconcile his betrayal with marriage. Leaving her child with his sister, they set off to Paris, where the secret wedding was to take place, Fulbert acting as witness. As soon as the union was solidified, her uncle did his best to betray the oath between him and Abelard, broadcasting the news as best he could. Heloise vehemently denied the marriage, further infuriating her uncle who took out his frustrations on her. Wishing to shelter her from his rage, and no doubt silence the stories of their marriage, Abelard sent his new wife to a convent. There she wore the habit of a notice, without the veil, a sign she had not taken vows. Chastity was certainly not on her mind:
"I paid you a secret visit. You will remember the excess to which passion drove me in a corner of the refectory, for there was nowhere else we could retire to. We were unrestrained in our lewdness, despite the respect due to a place dedicated to the Blessed Virgin."
Convinced Abelard was ridding himself of his bride, Fulbert and his friends decided to retaliate. They broke into his house, and castrated him. By morning, anyone who had ever heard of Abelard knew of the mutilation, and wailing crowds gathered outside his home. The philosopher was now more famous than he could ever have wished, but the mortifying nature of this notoriety made him covet anonymity. To revenge the savage shame, some of his attackers were themselves mutilated, while Fulbert lost all his possessions. This was not enough for Abelard, even Heloise had to pay for the crime. He prompted her to take vows and don the veil, afterwards taking vows himself. Those close to Heloise pleaded with her to reconsider and live out her youth, but Heloise followed Abelard's demands, mourning the calamity she brought to his life:
"O noble husband, so ill-suited to such a marriage, can it have been my destiny to exercise that right over so lofty a head? Criminal that I am, did I have to marry you and so bring you to disaster? Accept in atonement this punishment, which I meet willingly." Marcus Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia
These were the words Heloise spoke as she prepared to take the vows which would make their love forbidden even in thought.
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Abelard joined Saint-Denis, Fance's most renowned abbey. It was here royals were crowned in private, it was here monarchs wished to be laid to rest, it was the holy ground of France's first bishop and patron saint. Upon entering his new life Abelard soon began making enemies, as was his custom. He railed against the laxity of monks who lived in luxury. His hypocritical preaching bred resentment.
His fame as a teacher tread on as surely as his odious personality. Pupils pleaded with Abelard to continue his work, claiming he owed it to God. The monks took the oppornity to see him teaching out of a priory in Maisoncelles-en-Brie. This proved to be a productive time in Abelard's intellectual career, his influence helping to shift the study of theology from textual interpretations to comprehensive explinations of doctrines followed by proofs.
